


A Comprehensive Guide To Vetting A Partner

by AraniaDraws (AraniaArt)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang, Drama, Family Secrets, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Language, Lovesick Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Shapeshifter Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Veterinarian Aziraphale, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), injured crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraniaArt/pseuds/AraniaDraws
Summary: When Crowley finally works up the courage to ask Dr. Fell out to a perfectlycasualdinner, things end up going the exact opposite of how he'd hoped.With his nerves at an all-time high and his brain muddled with thoughts of the remarkable doctor, it isn't long before fate decides to thwart his plans and both tear him away from his friend and bring him closer than he's ever been before.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 54
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	1. It Runs in the Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Do It With Style Reverse Bang collab with the amazing AraniaDraws (AraniaArt), who both made two fantastic pieces of artwork to go with this fic and helped beta/brainstorm through this with me!
> 
> This will be 4-5 chapters long

Crowley rigidly stood behind the counter, listening to a customer do their best to haggle for a price on a first edition copy- one which he’d already made painfully clear was _not_ for sale.

It'd been a long morning- no, a long week- a long _month_ , and he could barely remember what time it was when he walked in to open the place up that morning, chugging coffee as quickly as he could. It was even harder to tell since his watch had gone missing yesterday, and on top of that, it’d been cold and cloudy outside. His body was barely functioning, too stressed to sleep much at night.

Ever since that damned real estate agent started eyeing this bookstore, family-owned and falling apart after he had to take up the reins, his nerves were on edge nonstop.

Once, this place was the most beautiful place in Soho- at least from his point of view, and all the bookworms it attracted. Filled with antique novels and nifty souvenirs, people would find peace from all the world’s bustle in its spindly rafters. Now, though… 

“You’re telling me it’s not for sale? Then why was it on display in the **window?!”** an elderly man barked at him, so angry there was practically steam coming out of his mouth. Might as well be, considering the heater was broken as well. Just another thing on Crowley's never-ending to-do list. 

“ _Sir_ ," he said, drawing out his best attempt at a "retail" voice, "It’s the same explanation as the _last_ time you asked; it’s on hold for someone. I apologize for the _inconvenience_ , but there's nothing that can be done.” As sternly as he replied, he had to admit the man had a point. He was technically at fault for leaving it up there and assuming nobody would mistake it as merchandise on sale. 

Something about putting it up under a gleaming display of lights had felt right, like an offering waiting for the perfect receiver. A receiver who, in this case, had very specific taste.

Still, there was no excuse for not thinking to leave a note somewhere around it with a simple “Not for sale” message, and it would’ve saved _so_ much hassle. There, another reason why he wasn’t cut out for this job, his head all up in the clouds rather than on business. He'd never been much of a people-person, and this only pushed things farther over the edge.

“That’s a load of bollocks if I ever heard it. Do you know how long I've been waiting to purchase this? After making me wait in a non-existent line for twenty minutes just for you to get your act together, I'd expect better quality service.” 

“We want to see the manager!” said the man’s wife, who stood behind him with a look of scorn beneath green false lashes, equally intolerable. 

“I _am_ the manager,” Crowley sighed; he’d have lost his patience long ago if he was all there at the moment. Mentally, he was walking around somewhere inside a furniture store, testing out cushions that would feel _so_ good to sit on right about now. He made a mental note to buy a functional pair of shoes later. “As well as the cashier, and the shelf stocker, and everything else in this place.”

“Preposterous! Don’t you have any other staff? You don't look like you've worked a day in your life."

“Nope, not since my mum decided to leave me to my own devices with hardly any resources or experience, running off to enjoy a vacation without so much as leaving a number,” he wanted to say, but instead pointed to a jar on his left, which had pens with little fake flowers on the lids. “You want one of those? They’re free of charge. Nifty, aren't they?” 

“Why you piece of sh-”

Crowley prepared for the next string of insults, but the thing that made his thoughts pop back to reality was a familiar face on the other side of the store. _Dr. A.Z. Fell,_ the one customer he looked forward to greeting every week walked through the doorway and waved at him with a courteous smile.

“ _Guh-_ Sorry, we’re closed,” Crowley stuttered, turning around the open sign and pushing his way through the counter gate. “You could try the new place downtown, I hear there are lots of collectors editions- though you’ll have to wait in a _long_ line. You'll be missing that non-existent one soon enough.”

Instead of waiting for an answer, he grabbed the book on the counter and quickly threw it in some brown paper packaging, then bagged it up. He did his best at making it look neat, but he still had much to learn about making the edges look smooth despite how many tutorials he'd watched online. He hoped the book didn’t have any stains on it from the ordeal; that customer’s hands looked awfully grimy, and he couldn't exactly stop to check over it one last time.  
“Enjoy your day, sir!” he back called over, waving with every desire to lock the place up forever. He couldn’t, though. Dr. Fell liked it here.

The doctor in question was sheepishly running his thumb over some teak wood shelves, not a fan of conflict of any sort. He wore a slightly darker bow tie today, which contrasted with the rest of his pastel attire. He wasn’t one for fashion, so Crowley had to wonder what the occasion might be. 

“Sorry about that,” the redhead rasped as he jogged over to the man's side, hiding the package behind his back as casually as he could considering he was now vibrating with renewed energy. “I don’t think that bloke liked the renovation very much. I should’ve known better than to leave things out in the open. People tend to reach for things under shiny displays.” 

The other man chuckled- and what a sight that was. A rosy tint blossomed over his cheeks every time he laughed, the lines under his eyes curving upwards along the slant of his cheekbones. He looked tired today, and it felt nice knowing he wasn’t the only one who’d been struggling to stay awake. Doctors had more reason to feel exhausted, though, and he reminded himself how much better he had it. Sure, his line of work was new and stressful to him, but how much worse would it be if he had to work overtime for the sake of the ill and vulnerable?

“No worries at all, dear boy,” the blonde spoke, clasping his hands together over his chest. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I just happened to be out for a stroll, and thought it might be nice to pop in for a moment- if you were open, that is…”

“Ah- no, we’re not closed-” he glanced back at the sign on the counter, wondering if he should turn it back since the last of the customers were finally heading toward the exit (fixing him with hard stares all the while.) “I was just-”

“It’s quite alright, I can come back another time. It’s nearly lunch now, so you must be perfectly spent.”

“It's fine, _really_ , and uh-” He felt at the package in his hand, wondering if the bag was going to satisfy the doctor’s love of old, crinkly packaging. It was such a slight thing to worry about, but he couldn’t help himself. He'd even made a special trip to get the right kind of paper, which stood out around the rest of the white, plastic material the bookstore already had in bulk in a little storage closet since the beginning. “I have something for you. I was thinking maybe we could...er…”

Alright, this was it. This was really it. He could do this. 

“Yes?” Dr. Fell said, tilting his head to the side with an eyebrow raise. He looked too good to be in a place like this, all soft and put-together and- damn everything, he _couldn’t_ do this.

 _That’s what you said the last ten times,_ Crowley told himself. There were a thousand reasons why he should at least try asking the doctor out for lunch, the number one being that it was currently lunchtime, and he did in fact have a digestive system.

The redhead had already asked about the other about his food preferences, so he had an idea of what he liked, but what if he wouldn’t enjoy a place like Randall & Aubin? He’d been saving together enough funds to spoil him if he did accept. That was a very big _If_. Now that he thought about it, the whole idea was much too forward. 

There was a possibility that he’d already eaten, or that he had other plans… maybe even with other _people_. That would be incredibly awkward if Dr. Fell just accepted the offer to be polite... then Crowley would slowly realize he'd barged in on the man's day. 

“I- um, alright so… there’s this _place_ that I happened upon recently and…” _God,_ he sounded stupid. _Tie a coherent sentence together_ , _Crowley_ , he mentally yelled at himself, clasping at the packaging in his hands so hard he might tear it. 

Dr. Fell was such a dynamic person, enriched with years of passion for the finer things. He loved theater, collecting rare prints of classic novels, and the way he lost focus while talking about something that interested him made Crowley feel minuscule in comparison. On top of all that, he was a _doctor_. He’d gone through years and years of prestigious education, earned himself a living in a highly competitive and fast-paced field, and had probably saved countless lives. 

What, he really thought he could impress a man like this with a _book?_ Which, now that he thought about it, was more or less an excuse to invite him out for a meal. Sure, it’d been hard to come by. Like, _really_ hard; he’d gone through six different merchants, three separate antique bookstores, a couple of scalpers, and finally got his hands on a first edition copy of _A Picture of Dorian Gray._ Sure, he’d listened to the doctor lament about it, how he’d been searching for that exact piece to finish his Wilde collection, but would he _really_ like it?

“You look pale, should we step outside for a moment?” the doctor questioned, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. The touch made Crowley flinch, a sudden ripple of conflicting sensation making his hair stand on end, but he did his best to suppress it. “You look so tired. Still having sleep trouble?” 

“Yeah…” he muttered, following the other’s lead to the doorway. He was thankful for his sunglasses, which hid his strained expression, among other things. They did little to ease the feeling that Dr. Fell could see right through him at any given time. He had that way about him. “That’s what it is.”

* * *

In hindsight, Crowley really should’ve considered that giving someone a gift wasn’t automatically an invitation to lunch. It felt almost inappropriate to ask; sure, they’d been talking for a little over a year, conversing on all of Fell’s frequent visits to the bookshop. He came almost every Monday, sometimes on Wednesdays or Fridays if he was feeling up to it by the end of the week, and had seen him at his worst when he was just starting out the ordeal of running the place by himself. That didn’t mean the doctor _enjoyed_ spending time with him, or that he should feel obligated to accept something like this. 

Crowley knew the life of a doctor was hectic as is, and he didn’t need the extra weight of carrying on conversations with someone like him. Yet, here they were on a bench in St. James Park, doing just that for the past hour, and the conversation was flowing a bit too easily for his liking.

“Oh my, you really had someone trying to buy from the display?” the doctor chuckled, looking positively radiant with that smile plastered on his face. Any hint of exhaustion beneath his eyes had melted away throughout their walk, now replaced by that gentle expression Crowley craved to draw out. It was a shame to burden him with such minuscule problems as a troublesome customer or two, but Fell always wanted to know about how his week had gone, and it felt wonderful getting things off his chest. 

“Yeah, I had it on hold for someone else.“ That was his cue to mention the said book, which rested in the crook of his arm. He felt like such a fool, too nervous to bring it up till now. This couldn’t take all afternoon! Well, maybe it could… _no,_ **_no!_  
** “In fact, I have it right here. Maybe you want to take a look?” 

He offered the package, which was slightly crinkled from the long wait. Dr. Fell peered down at it curiously, narrowing his eyes as if he suspected a frog might hop out (not that he could be blamed, after the incident last Spring...) “It’s not much, just something I thought you might be interested in.”

“What’s this?” he said even as he began to undo the twine from the middle. (Was the bow too much? The bow was definitely too much) “I’m not so sure if I should be opening this if you were so hesitant to- Good _heavens_!” he gasped as the cover came into view, bordered by gorgeous filigreed scrollwork.

After he finished unwrapping, he turned the gift around in his hands, tapping the spine with his fingernails to hear the satisfying thump each time. He then gently pressed his palm over the expertly-crafted leather of the cover, holding the book up into a patch of sunlight to watch the pages reflect with a terrific golden hue.

He gawked at the intricate design on the first page, with silvery writing that stood out against the paper. “This is… this is absolutely exquisite!” 

“Yeah… don’t worry about giving it back. So I might’ve just happened upon it by accident. S’all yours, if you want it. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the rest of your collection.”

“You came across this by _accident?_ I’ve been to so many sales, different cities and the like, and I’ve never found this edition. You... Well, I... Crowley, _thank you."_

“Sure thing.” He gulped hard, pulse racketing through his body. There was an itch blooming over his arms, skin becoming dry to the touch. 

He didn’t know what else to say, so he just sat awkwardly while Dr. Fell gushed about the history of the book, about the life of the author, all those fine details that he’d never thought to look into himself. Just another reason the doctor was better than he could ever hope to be. He felt like a moth sitting next to a lamp.

“I… I have to repay you somehow,” he murmured as he finished taking in the view, placing the book in his lap with an amazingly gentle touch, as if it was a living creature. “Is there anything I could get you in return? Anything you’d like to do?”

“Well I mean-” He tried to check his watch, before remembering it was still lost. “Um, what… time is it…?” he muttered sheepishly, watching a grin spread across Dr. Fell’s face.

“Almost one.”

“Shite- er, maybe we could go out _tonight?_ Ever been to Randall & Aubin? I’ve heard it has some excellent choices since you like seafood and all… _If_ that’s alright. If you have other plans or anything, don’t feel pressured at all. We could even go a different day or a different week, or-“

“Tonight sounds splendid!” He clapped his hands in a ridiculously adorable show of delight, wiggling his shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to try it myself. What time would you like to go? I’ve got to finish up my hours, but I should be available around six. It's been a slow week, so I doubt I'll have to do overtime.”

“Oh, jussst whenever.” He realized at that moment that his lisp was coming out, and quickly finished the sentence, “You could give me a call when you’re ready if you want.”  
Was that coming off too strong? Was it still normal to give people phone numbers? It was hard to think when his mind was bouncing back and forth between panic and happiness.

“That would be just perfect,” he beamed.

Crowley’s thoughts all stopped for a second, time moving slower in his perspective, but he willed his hand to reach into his pocket and pull out a small notepad, scribbling down his number. He felt completely brain-dead by the time he handed it to the doctor, drunk with adrenaline. “Well then… see you tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah. See you.”

* * *

As soon as Dr. Fell left, Crowley walked as casually as he could to an area where there weren’t any people around and ducked behind a bush. His heart hammered, his sensations mixed into one another. He couldn’t hold it off any longer. The transformation took place.

The world swayed and tilted, everything going blurry as he felt his body morph. The gradual itch that nipped at his arms increased till he couldn’t help but scratch at it, desperately tugging up his sleeves to get some relief, revealing spreading black scales.

The color of the plant life surrounding him drained, going fuzzy. 

Skin became smooth and rigid, sight turned to scent, and… the world became a _lot_ bigger. 

Alright, so… he had a problem. His whole family did, in fact; a hereditary curse that was handed down to him through countless generations. They were shape-shifters. Specifically, they were _snake-shifters_ , as he liked to call it. They all shared the traits of cold-bloodedness, an immense love of cold, dark living spaces, and were absolutely socially inept. He supposed he could thank one of his great-great-great… well, one of his very distant relatives for fucking around in the occult and passing on this piece of misfortune to countless generations. 

Whenever he faced an extreme stressor, be it fear or anger, he’d lose control over the ability and everything would just spiral into... _this_. Multiple hearts raced at once, a sensation he’d nearly forgotten. 

His mess of clothes sat there in the grass, now a hundred times too big for him to fill them out. He just hoped nobody would find them before he could get his nerves to calm and change back. It wouldn’t be the first time someone found one of his outfits lying around and tossed them in the trash. He was already enough of an idiot without the added fact that he couldn’t handle talking to the person he’d been slowly developing feelings for without turning into a glorified noodle with scales. 

Well, what of it? He’d managed to see through the conversation, he’d arranged a dinner with Dr. Fell and made him _smile_. Multiple times. It was doing absolutely nothing for his nerves as he replayed the whole encounter again in his mind, twisting around himself in a heap of coils. If any of his relatives could see him now, they'd gawk in disapproval at such a pitiful display; they weren't very partial to _soft_ things. It was yet another factor that made him a weak link to the family. 

The grass tickled around him, cool soil draining his body of that burning heat he’d been putting up with since seeing the doctor’s face that morning. It was grounding to flick out his tongue and taste the air, the ozonic scent of rain clouds above. 

After a few minutes of this, he heard a rustling sound and looked to the side, wondering if he hadn’t been careful enough. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been caught in this form, though the last few times the people that saw him were very old or young, and nobody else would believe them when they yelled about seeing a man turn into a fucking _snake_ of all things. Since then, he’d been extra cautious to avoid detection… but well… today was special. 

“Hey, look what I found!” a shrill voice said. He’d heard it before; one of those little brats who kept trying to wipe spit on the books while his parents kept him too occupied with haggling to do anything about it. 

Crowley wasn’t much of a fan of children, at least not when he was a quarter of their size. Adults and even teens generally had the sense to leave wild animals alone, considering the fangs and the chance of getting bitten. Kids, however, were _stupid_ and would try to touch anything out of curiosity. Even then, he could easily scare them off with a hiss. 

This one, though, liked to hurt things. In this form, his sensitive tongue could taste the mingled scents of brass, glass, and charred ladybug still clinging to the boy’s hands. 

He tried to slither further under the bush, but there wasn’t enough coverage to keep him hidden. His newly serpentine body was still getting used to the flow of coils instead of limbs, so it was practically useless at any kind of defense. 

The little creep had evidently brought his equally vile friends with him. They had sticks and rocks in each hand, walking closer while pointing down at him.

 _Fuck_.


	2. A Different Angle

The first hit flung Crowley’s body a few feet away. He landed against a boulder with a splat, air knocked out of him all at once. A _stick_ of all things, a tiny little twig was all it took to toss him like a rag doll with a bit of force from a _kid_. He’d laugh about it later if he could ever stop hissing. It was good he didn’t have the full weight of a human body to deal with it at least, but at the same time, he’d never felt so vulnerable in such a small form. 

The impact was horribly disorienting, and his new instincts urged him to curl into a ball or strike at the threats that circled above him. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt children, though, so all he could do was look for an opening to make an escape.

“Woah, did you see how far it went?!” one of the brats called, riffling around in her pockets for a camera. “Mum says snakes are evil creatures; they bite you and your skin falls off.”

“They do _not_ ,” said another, the one who hit him first. “They inject poison… or is it venom? Whatever, they’re little devils who’ll sneak inside houses when you try to sleep.”

“So hurry up and hit it again then! It’s angry now.”

“What if we get in trouble for that?” the girl said, though she eyed the rock in her hand, walking closer to Crowley. “You two have to promise not to tell.”

“Why would we do that? We’re in this together now. It’s our secret to keep!” 

The serpent jerked away as the stone flew at him; thankfully the girl was a _terrible_ aim. He’d love to call their parents later and lecture them about raising little sociopaths, but at this rate, he’d need a couple of hours to heal enough to transform back. The thing about family curses was that they normally had their own terms and conditions; in this case, the rules were simple: he couldn’t change while injured. Now, that wasn’t normally a problem, as he knew better than to let himself get stuck in the middle of _public space_ when he felt the change coming on. 

He had his methods for staying in control since he’d been practicing since early childhood (his mum had a real fun time explaining the first time it happened. He was playing a video game and got just a bit too frustrated with a boss battle, and _boy_ she had a good laugh about it.) Controlled breathing worked wonders, as well as progressive muscle relaxation and other standard calming exercises. 

Of course, that meant managing stress to an extreme degree. Living in the middle of a city was hell on nerves, and so was trying to work jobs that he could get without a college degree. In regards to education, he'd done what schooling he could online, and the rest of it had to be put off till he could work out how to take care of a bookstore and still make ends meet. 

What relatives of his remained knew better than to live somewhere with so many people, and in a way they probably resented him for stepping out of the comfort of the wooded areas where those with the shifting ability didn’t have to worry about being caught. 

His mum was the one who wanted to start a new life, to travel the world after leaving him with her own “slice of Heaven” right in the middle of Soho. So far he was less _living_ than just keeping his head above water, trying to learn how to function independently after being suffocated by a family with a primordial curse. 

Oh well, at least he had other things to worry about now. Like not getting squashed beneath the dirty boots of schoolchildren. He wished he could say this was the first time this had occured, but he used to be much more careless. The objective was to strike a threatening pose without inciting the humans to act in self-defense, but this only worked if he was dealing with _normal_ humans. The fact that these kids were in a group, whispering to each other in encouragement, made things _so_ much worse.

Storm clouds were rolling in, and lunchbreak had passed, so most of the adults wandering the area were gone. It was just Crowley against a couple of bloody _idiots_ with half-formed brains.

“You should know better than to hit your elders,” he said, though of course the only thing that came out was a garbled hiss, as he coiled backwards to create a more threatening pose. He opened his mouth wide, revealing sharp fangs that were more for show than anything. "If you remember this when you're older, you'll regret it."

He couldn’t bring himself to eat while in such a form, though once he’d flicked his tongue over a mouse just to see if his opinion would change while transformed. Likewise, he couldn’t get the awful taste out of his mouth even after brushing for ten minutes.

“Is it gonna bite?!” the girl shrieked, moving backward. 

“I don’t know- hit it harder!” the other flailed backward, but only for a moment. The only openings the snake could spot kept disappearing as another kid blocked the route with a foot. A rock came down on the serpent's middle, and everything turned into pain

* * *

“It can’t be all bad,” Crowley thought to himself, body nestled in the safety of shady grass. It was cool there in the garden outside his home, the waft of sweet herbs encouraging him to explore the familiar environment as if it was entirely new. 

Sense was everything now; what had seemed so dull before now enthralled him, how the phases of the day and the weather had scents he hadn’t been able to pick up on before. Spring was his favorite when the first shoots of flowers crept up so slow and quiet into a sleeping world. 

He’d gotten good at navigating around his house like this. Even though his mum had the same ability, she often lost track of him behind bookcases and under stairwells- conveniently at times when she wanted help with chores. It didn’t always work, but Crowley was proud when it did, thinking that perhaps, just perhaps this “curse” he’d inherited was less of a curse than a gift. What other child could do such a thing? They didn’t know the comfort of lounging in a basket filled with ripening fruits, letting the gentlest rays of sun slowly warm up their scales.

"It can't be so bad if we're together," the tiny snake continued in his mind, lazily curling around to find just the right position to catch every hint of warmth through the shade. "Maybe someday I'll be able to fly. Then I'll see the world just like mum."

The view of that old garden slipped away, fading into a world of darkness where everything stung. 

Crowley tried to hiss, but found his body was too paralyzed with fear and pain, tightly balled-together to block out any more threats.

There were just a few holes in the top of whatever container he found himself in; it brought back the memory of a time he got stuck in a watering can for several hours after getting too confident in his ability to maneuver around small spaces. Now wasn't the time to be recollecting on the past, and he didn't know why he woke up with such a sense of comforting nostalgia. It was the after-effects of shock, he assumed.

He flicked out his tongue to get a better sense of his surroundings, drinking in the scent of cold metal and cardboard. There was a faint essence of bleach and alcohol as well, so he had to wonder if he was in a bathroom or, even worse, a _kitchen_. Was there any restaurant in London that served snake? Surely not, but then again, he'd heard of all the weird dishes people were serving up these days in the name of being gaudy. He'd never exactly bit into himself, but he was pretty sure that he tasted terrible.

“You’ve really done it thissss time, Crowley,” he jeered to himself, feeling the tender ache of broken scales along his belly. “How do you plan on getting yourssself out of here now? Jusst had to get ssso excited about a little dinner date, didn’t you? Bloody **idiot**.” 

He quieted as he heard someone speaking outside the enclosure. The voice was that of an adult, so there was some relief in knowing he’d most likely been discovered by a parent. If he had a human form right now, he'd give them an earful about their shitty kids and how much they needed to learn about _respecting wildlife._

“Hello, dearie! So sorry to bother you on such short notice,” a woman spoke, voice bubbly and warm. It sounded like she was tapping long fingernails on a counter, perhaps. The snake could smell her potent perfume even in here; she reeked of geranium and some kind of taffy- quite an odd mix as if she'd combined two different bottles of the stuff.

“No problem at all, Miss Tracy!” another one joined. It sounded almost… _no_. **_No_** , **_no_** , **_no_** , **_no-_ ** this couldn’t be happening. _Dr. Fell?!_ This had to be a bad dream. “I’m always happy to see you. I hope you’re doing well... Oh, what do you have there?”

The woman tapped on the lid above Crowley, making some sort of soothing noise in the back of her throat.  
“Poor little fellow I found all beaten up while I was out walking. At first, I didn’t know who to call, but then I remembered how good you were at that exhibition last Fall for the children, and I was hoping you’d be willing to take a look.”

“I’m surprised you remember that…” he trailed off, and Crowley could tell just from his tone that he was a bit shy. “I’d never done a presentation before, at least not for a crowd. Even now, I have little experience with public speaking.”

“A crowd? There were hardly over ten people in the whole place!” She giggled, and it hurt to hear such a horribly _cheery_ sound. All Crowley wanted right now was to lie in bed for a couple of years, forget about all this human nonsense. He wanted _quiet_.  
“I miss seeing you wearing that _outlandish_ outfit. You pull off the safari-style so well.“

Dr. Fell sighed as if trying to push aside the memory.  
“I hoped you wouldn’t remember that part… So! You have an animal for me to look at?”

“Oh- yes, where are my manners?”

The serpent jerked as the lid was pulled off above him. He retracted into a tight spiral, hissing weakly. He felt entirely pitiful, merely a ghost of the threatening creature he liked to think of himself while in this form.  
“See? Just look at the poor dear. Must be frightened out of his mind.”

“A _snake?_ Goodness, I’m glad you weren’t hurt while picking it up.”

“I wasn’t honestly sure if it was alive till I heard it hissing a few minutes ago. I had a few empty boxes left over from moving out some furniture to my niece’s new place a few blocks down, and I realized this would be a perfect fit. Oh- and I had a pair of gardening gloves, so at least I had a bit of a barrier between my skin and that slimy thing.”

The doctor looked down into the box, and Crowley couldn’t bear to return the gaze. He’d never been so humiliated in all his life- and not only because he was going to miss a date he’d been trying to secure for months now, but because Dr. Fell had been a _bloody veterinarian this whole time._

Surely the doctor must’ve mentioned it at some point, made a distinction, but Crowley’s attention was hardly ever on his words. He was much more interested in how he said them, the way they sounded as they rolled off his tongue. How close he was. He supposed this was karmic justice; he was officially never going to live this one down.

“What an interesting creature you’ve found!” Dr. Fell exclaimed, a smile on his voice. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen a snake quite like this before, at least not in person. It’s excessively large, and these _scales…_ they’re so iridescent and lovely.” Crowley still hissed but puffed up a bit at the praise despite himself. “It’s hard to tell the species of this fellow. It doesn’t look like anything native to the United Kingdom that I know of. Perhaps it escaped a zoo?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, there have been all sorts of strange occurrences lately, haven’t there? Could be a bad omen.”

“I don’t see how there could be anything bad about this little dear- well, _big_ dear.”

The snake could feel the doctor observing him, walking around to see different angles. It was strange to be in such a position, seeing as he was a bit taller than the other man and was normally the one looking down at _him_. “Well, it looks like there’s some serious damage in a few areas, though it’s hard to tell in this light- especially since his scales are nearly pitch black!” 

“You think it’ll be alright?”

“Oh, I believe so. Snakes are tough little creatures, and this one especially looks like he’s been through a lot. Thank you for going out of your way today, miss Tracy! Who knows what might’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

“No problem at. It’s always nice to see you wearing your scrub outfit, looking all professional.”

“You _don’t_ have to keep that pointing out,” he huffed, scrunching up his nose. “I wish this job didn’t require such… _garish_ apparel, but I suppose I wouldn’t want to get my normal wardrobe anywhere near all these cleaning chemicals.” 

Crowley snuck a glance up at the doctor through brille covering his eyes; he’d snicker if it didn’t feel like his insides were going to spill out at sudden movements. The doctor was wearing a _tartan print_. He knew there were many patterns for outfits in the medical field today, but it was still a surprise looking upon someone like _Dr. Fell_ sporting anything less than a pristine coat. It suited him quite well.

“In any case, I should really be getting back to work. I have an… _event_ tonight.” 

“Ooh, being mysterious today, are we?” 

“It’s just a meal, nothing special,” he mumbled as he scribbled a few things down on a notepad. "I don't think this checkup will take too long, and there's another fellow coming in for a shift in about an hour, so perhaps I can leave a little early."

“I know that look of yours,” the woman continued even as she started walking in the opposite direction, “I hope you have fun on your date!”

“It’s **_not-_ **” he began, before clearing his throat, “Have a good afternoon, miss Tracy. Have a very good afternoon.”


End file.
